


Apple Shampoo

by innertimetraveldetective



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, First Kiss, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Leo Fitz is a Good Bro, Lots of tears, Self-Harm, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, Some Fluff, Vomiting, ace/aro fitz, mostly angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26093260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innertimetraveldetective/pseuds/innertimetraveldetective
Summary: Thank you @simmons_xx for beta reading!Jemma and Skye being gay and oblivious for 7,000 words gay.  Also lots of angst.  Read the tags for CWs :)
Relationships: Jemma Simmons & Skye | Daisy Johnson, Jemma Simmons/Skye | Daisy Johnson, Leo Fitz & Jemma Simmons, Melinda May & Skye | Daisy Johnson, Phil Coulson & Skye | Daisy Johnson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

Jemma Simmons had always prided herself on her ability to fix things. Growing up in Sheffield with a little brother there’d been plenty of opportunity to mend things. She was no engineer, but when Thomas had broken his Furby she’d stayed up all night to fix the ugly thing. When he’d accidentally buggered the family computer, she’d taken a day to study software in order to fix it for him.

When she’d left home to study at the academy she took it upon herself to ‘fix’ Fitz. She’d listen to his ramblings, desperately piecing together his chaotic thought process, trying to calm his manic mind. He might’ve been the engineer, but that didn’t mean he didn’t need fixing too. Simmons figured that he just needed a bit of help figuring it out.  
Then they’d met Skye. Sure, Jemma loved Fitz, but like she loved Thomas. She’d tried to love Fitz like she thought she should, but she just couldn’t. Guilt had haunted her for a while after she’d realised that she loved someone else.

Skye outshone Fitz in a million ways. Skye had found her scooping up a broken test-tube, hands bleeding and tears in her eyes in the lab one night. She just got a dustpan and helped her to fix it. They’d cleaned up the mess in silence, then Skye took Jemma’s bloody hands and led her to the medbay. She’d found the antiseptic wipes and gently cleaned Jemma’s wounds, bandaging them up. Jemma just sat there, helpless, succumbing to Skye’s kindness. When she was done, Skye gave her a hug and a brisk kiss on the cheek. Jemma’s skin had tingled at the touch.

‘Later, Simmons,’ She’d said, before heading off to her bunk.

Jemma Simmons had always been able to fix things. So why was it that Skye was lying hooked up to a million machines, barely clinging on, and Jemma couldn’t do anything to help. She couldn’t understand why she couldn’t fix her. She’d broken down in Fitz’s arms, unable to just mend the woman she had fallen in love with. She despised how helpless she felt, furious at how, the one time it really mattered, she couldn’t just make things ok again.

She sat by Skye’s bed, watching the sleeping girl. When Coulson had told her to get some rest she’d insisted on remaining by Skye’s side as much as possible. She couldn’t leave her. What if she flatlined and Jemma was too busy being selfish to fix it in time? At least this way, she knew that Skye wasn’t breaking anymore. 

She stroked Skye’s hair. She longed for the opportunity to tell her, exasperated at herself for not confessing earlier. She had considered it before jumping out of the plane, but Skye had disappeared with May before she could say anything. So Jemma watched her, craving Skye’s touch, her love, her laugh, even just her life. She watched her, yearning for another opportunity, any opportunity, just to laugh with her again. 

She’d hold her hand as she slept, hoping beyond all hope that the limp muscles would suddenly tense, have life restored to them once more. She held her hand, imagining that it was like a lifeline, keeping Skye in the world, just clinging on. 

Coulson had taken Fitz, Garrett and Ward to the Guest House, in a final, if feeble attempt to save Skye’s life. Jemma stayed with Trip, leaving her side to stand with him outside the med room. 

“You guys go back a ways?” she heard Trip ask, barely picking up on his voice over the roar of her own anxious thoughts. She considered his question for a second. They were Friends. Painfully so. Skye would call her babe and hug her casually, slinging her arm around Jemma’s shoulders. She never knew that Jemma longed for more, for her chapped lips against Jemma’s soft ones.

“Not really.” Jemma settled with. “A few months. We have nothing in common, couldn’t be more different really, but-”

“But you couldn’t imagine your life without her?” Trip cut her off, smiling a little.

“Yes.” Jemma said, slightly surprised at how the man had picked up on her feelings towards Skye, whether he thought them to be platonic or romantic. 

“You’ve experienced that, Agent Triplett?” She asked, trying to make conversation to distract from the awful rhythm of Skye’s heart monitor. 

“I have.” he said, turning his gaze to Jemma. “Sometimes a person takes you by surprise.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, breaking his gaze to look back at Skye, already anxious that she’d slipped away unnoticed. It was almost as though she were a shadow as the sun was setting now. Blink and you’d miss her.

“She’s very lucky to have you,” Trip told her. Jemma’s heart fluttered at the thought of Skye having her. At the thought of being hers. At the thought of herself in Skye’s arms.

“I know if anything bad happens to me, I hope you’re in my corner too.” the man continued. Jemma looked at him, slightly shocked at how open he was. They’d only known each other a day.   
Part of her wanted to blame her Britishness, always leaving her more reserved in being open about her emotions than her American friends.

“Comms are down,” After so long on the bus, living with spies, Jemma had gotten used to May and Ward’s eerie ability to enter a room unnoticed.

“If I don’t hear anything within the hour, I’m going after them.” Jemma nodded.  
Skye’s heart monitor started beeping erratically. Jemma sprung into action, rushing back into her room, adrenaline spiking. She couldn’t lose her now, not when she hadn’t been able to say goodbye. 

“Skye’s coding, both of you, now!” the power in the room shifted almost instantly. Where May had previously been quietly commanding respect, it was all on Jemma now. If Skye didn’t make it, it was all on her. 

“How can we help?” May asked, Jemma instinctively barked back at her,

“I need a unit of Epi,” not quite sure what she was saying, but knowing that it sounded right.

“Got it,” Jemma heard somewhere behind her, unwilling to take her eyes or her eyes off Skye. Jemma kept pushing down on Skye’s chest, silently begging her to hold on. Her heart rate slowed down, but remained arrhythmic.

“Weak, erratic heart rate,” Jemma recited, her brain now relying on her books and years of studying.

“Each time we save her, I ask myself ‘is this what Skye would want’” Jemma told no one in particular. In truth, she didn’t know if they were doing the right thing. Maybe the kind thing would be to let her die. Jemma couldn’t. She couldn’t let her go, not when she had just found her, not when there was still a world of possibilities.

“We didn’t come this far to quit,” May told her, Jemma didn’t know how comforting it was. Everything happened at once. Fitz’s voice came over the comms telling them to take off, Skye started to flatline again, Jemma was barely holding herself together. It was too much, it was all too much, but no. She had to stay strong, if not for Skye then for herself. So she could say that she did everything she could to fix it. She started pumping down on Skye’s chest again, imagining that she was syncing Skye’s weak breath with her own heavy ones.  
Fitz burst into the room, presenting her with a small tube.

“We found it,” he told her, his eyes hopeful, yet something else lurked behind them.

“What is it? And how much? Injected where?” She asked him, exasperated. She knew that it wasn’t really fair to be annoyed at Fitz, but she just needed to fix Skye, there wasn’t time for guessing   
games.   
Fitz just shrugged at her. She sighed and took the tube from him. 

“Trip, syringe and needle,” she asked him, apparently he was the only one who was any use in this particular situation. He handed it to her, his hands steady, her hands shaking like a leaf in the wind. She took a deep breath and filled the syringe. She moved Skye’s arm as gently as she could and injected the stuff right into her deltoid.

“No! Don’t give it to her!” Coulson cried, running into the room. Jemma looked up at him, pulling the syringe out of Skye’s arm.

“I was losing her anyway, what harm can it do?” She admitted, stepping aside to dispose of the needle, wiping her face of tears and sweat. She exhaled. If this didn’t fix her then that was it. Skye was gone. She felt a lump in her throat.

“Come on, girl,” Trip said, echoing the desperation in everyone’s eyes.

“It’s working,” Garret said. Jemma felt a smile spread across her face. She knew that it was hasty, hell, she didn’t even know what she'd given Skye. But her heartbeat was stabilizing, that was all that mattered. Her hand rested next to Skye’s head on her pillow. She was so close. She was within touching distance. Skye gasped. Jemma rested her hand on her head. 

“She’s spiking,” someone said. Jemma knew this. She stroked Skye’s hair, tears welling in her eyes. She knew that this was a sign, she could feel her temperature rising under her hand. 

“Stop it! How can we stop it? Skye!” another voice called. Simmons knew that it was pointless. She began to cry, stroking Skye’s hair, as though that could comfort her, but it was more for Jemma than anything. If she could feel her heat, it meant she must still be there. 

“What’s happening?” she turned around and saw Coulson behind her,

“I don’t know,” she breathed, her voice sounding all wrong. Dammit, why couldn’t she fix it. She cried over Skye, whispering to her, or maybe to herself. She wasn’t sure anymore. She watched as her body thrashed, gasping, as though she was drowning. Skye collapsed against Jemma’s hand. 

“Her heartbeat,” Jemma said, trying to make sense of it,

“She’s stabilizing.” 

“Simmons?” Coulson said, as though asking her a million questions she didn’t have any answers to. Jemma just nodded. She kept her hand on Skye's head. She couldn’t let her go. Not again. 

Jemma didn’t leave Skye’s side. It annoyed her, how understanding Fitz was being. She wanted him to be angry at how preoccupied she had been. She had explained to him how there were too many unknowns, but her words just sounded hollow. She couldn’t tell Fitz about Skye. Not about how much she wanted her, not about how she ached for her, not about how her touch would make Jemma feel like she was unkillable, like nothing could reach her. 

She kept watching over Skye as she recovered. She woke up the day after, pale and sweaty. Jemma was sleeping in the chair by her bed. She’d been too anxious to leave her alone. The drug was unpredictable, Jemma had no idea of any possible side effects. She could barely take her eyes off Skye. 

She traced her features with her eyes as Skye slept. She had faint freckles over her nose, her eyelashes were short. Her cheekbones were high, yet they weren’t sharp like some people’s. Her teeth were a bit wonky, her lips resided in a slight frown as she slept. Her eyebrows were naturally perfect, Jemma found. They kept their shape throughout the day that Skye was in the medbay. Her eyes were usually bright and happy, a light behind them that Jemma didn’t see much in S.H.I.E.L.D. Almost innocent. 

“Simmons?” a croaky voice asked. Jemma’s eyes snapped open.

“Skye?” She asked, almost not wanting to believe that she was actually ok.

“Do you remember what happened?” Jemma asked her, not quite sure what she would remember. She got up to get her a bottle of water with a straw. 

“Uh, I remember that rich creapo, Quinn?” Jemma nodded,

“I remember being shot.” she took the bottle that Jemma handed her, nodding in gratitude. She took a sip, the cool water sliding down her scratchy throat. 

“I remember how it burned, how it felt like someone had set my insides on fire.” Jemma looked away at Skye’s grimace, hating that she’d been in pain.

“I remember voices, a hand on my head, and I remember a hand holding mine, although I guess I could’ve been dreaming.” Skye told her.

“Yes, that’s about right. Are you in pain?” Jemma asked, not sure if she should put Skye on a morphine drip. (A/N, i have no idea what i'm talking about srsly)

“Well, only when I breathe,” Skye tried to sit up so she could properly look Jemma in the eye. She gasped, the pain blinding her.

“And move apparently.” 

“Well that’s to be expected, you’ve been shot twice, had your stomach perforated and a breathing tube shoved down your throat.” Jemma told her curtly, not wanting Skye to feel as though something was being kept from her. She walked over to tie the tourniquet around Skye’s upper arm, her skin tingling as she brushed against her. She went to get her gloves on, mostly to cover up the childish blush that had spread across her cheeks after she’d touched Skye.

“I’m just going to take a little blood, need to make sure that nothing is wrong,” Simmons lied smoothly. In truth, she needed to find out what the hell she’d given Skye, what miracle drug had saved her life. She wiped her arm with antiseptic, and carefully inserted the needle into Skye’s arm, trying to ignore Skye’s pained expression. After she was done, she placed some cotton wool over the puncture, 

“Apply pressure to that please,” she asked Skye. She left her fingers there so Skye’s fingertips would touch hers. She scolded herself, ‘come on, Jemma, really?’ and moved to throw the needle away.

“Not sure how I feel about Doctor Simmons,” Skye said, Simmons unsure whether she was being serious.

“She’s so strict, and pokey,” Skye said, a tad loopily. 

“Well I couldn’t ask for a better patient,” Jemma smiled over at Skye. 

“Wellll, it’s not like I can go very far, not whilst I’m busy being your own personal lab rat.” Jemma smiled down at her, slightly ashamed at how her stomach flipped when Skye had called herself Jemma’s. Especially when the words lab rat followed.

“I just need to run this back to the lab for analysis. Back in a mo.”  
When Jemma returned a while later, her eyes were closed. She looked so peaceful, sleeping. Almost like a child. Skye was too young for this life, they all were.   
Jemma fell to the floor, the weight of her grief almost collapsing on her shoulders all at once, and just cried. She held Skye’s hand and she cried. She cried for Skye, for herself, for the uncertainty of it all, for how she was so close to losing her, to losing any opportunity to tell her how she felt. She pressed a kiss to Skye’s hand softly, and then her forehead. Her tears fell on   
Skye’s forehead, salty tears combining with salty sweat. She didn’t let go of her until Fitz came in, offering Jemma a pizza slice on a plate. 

He collapsed beside her.  
They ate in silence for a while, Jemma’s throat too dry to say much. 

“I…” She started.

“What?” he asked her, almost certain he knew where she was going with this. She cleared her throat. 

“ I love her, Fitz,” she told him, eyes swollen from crying. He just nodded.

“I know, Jemma.” He put an arm around her. She leaned against his shoulder, tears coming fast. 

“I just… I just can’t fix it,” she sobbed. He rubbed her arm, trying to comfort her relentless sobs. He loved Jemma, really he did. But not like that.

“I’m so sorry Fitz.” she sniffled into his shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay. I love you Jems, really I do. Just not like that. I tried to, but I realised after the second year of the academy that I just, don't feel that way. About anyone, really. You have   
excellent taste, may I say.” He tried to lighten the mood, only making her cry harder.

“I tried to love you, I really did. I do, really.” She knew she couldn’t make him understand, or comfort him really. Just another thing that Jemma couldn’t fix.

“You’re like a brother to me. I’m so sorry Fitz.”

“I feel the same. It’s okay, you have nothing to apologise for. You’re my best friend.” He kissed her forehead light and squeezed her shoulders tighter, leaning back against Skye’s bed.   
They stayed there together, sitting on the floor by her bed. Jemma cried to Fitz. She fell asleep on his shoulder after a while, and he just sat there with her, finally mourning for Simmons and Skye.


	2. Chapter 2

She looked down to her hands, blood covering them. Quinn stepped towards her and held her, shushing her gasps. Then he shot her point blank. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. She fell to the floor, the impact hurting her side more. Her vision went blurry, black spots dancing in front of her eyes. She cursed herself, for being so careless. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to leave Simmons. She didn’t want to go without feeling her chapped lips against her soft ones. She wanted to smell her hair one more time. She pushed through the pain and the burning and the dancing blackness to get to the door. She opened it. Then she felt herself hit the floor. 

“Hello, Skye.” She saw Jemma laying beside her on her side, gazing at Skye, hand in hers

“Jemma.” Skye breathed, not believing that she was there. In bed. With Jemma Simmons.  
Jemma reached out and brushed Skye’s hair behind her ear. The sun was shining through curtains from behind the bed. Jemma looked beautiful. The sun hit her, a beam of light highlighting her cheek. Her freckles danced across her cheek. She was quietly breathing, her chest rising as she inhaled and exhaled.

“Skye? Are you okay?” Skye smiled at her. 

“Of course I’m okay, I’m with you. Just admiring the view, is all.” Jemma smiled back at her, leaning in to kiss her. Skye didn’t feel Jemma’s soft lips against her chapped ones. Skye woke up.

“Simmons?” Skye asked, looking around. There was no Simmons, or sun shining through the curtains. There was a narrow hospital bed, and a beeping heart monitor. There was a dull heat coming from her stomach. The memories hit her like a ton of bricks. Italy, Mike Peterson, Quinn, the impact of her body as she hit the floor. She inhaled. The pain made the world spin.

“Skye?” a familiar voice asked.

“Do you remember what happened?” Simmons asked her. Skye watched as she got up and walked across the room. 

“Uh, I remember that rich creapo, Quinn?” Jemma nodded at her, affirming Skye’s assumption.

“I remember being shot.” she took the bottle that Jemma handed her, nodding in gratitude. She took a sip, the cool water sliding down her scratchy throat.

“I remember how it burned, how it felt like someone had set my insides on fire.” Skye grimaced, feeling dull, aching pain in her stomach.

“I remember a hand on my head, a hand holding mine, although I guess I could’ve been dreaming.” Skye told her, knowing full well that she had been dreaming, grieving the comfort that had brought her,

“Yas, that’s about right. Are you in pain?” Jemma asked her. 

“Well, only when I breathe,” Skye tried to sit up so she could properly look Jemma in the eye. She gasped, the pain blinding her. The dancing blackness returned once more.

“And move, apparently.” she joked, trying to lighten the mood. This felt like her deathbed, and she wasn’t loving it. She’d held on for Jemma once, she could do it again. 

“Well that’s to be expected, you’ve been shot twice, had your stomach perforated and a breathing tube shoved down your throat. You were out for around 18 hours.” Skye tried to look down at her stomach without moving her head. A shoot of pain echoed throughout her. She hadn’t noticed her apparent headache through the burning of her stomach. Jemma walked over and tied a blue strip of material tight around Skye’s arm. Her stomach dropped when Jemma’s fingers brushed against her arm. She watched Jemma walk over to the side and took a breath. If she couldn’t keep herself composed from just a brush on the arm, she couldn’t imagine how kissing Simmons would feel.

“I’m just going to take a little blood, need to make sure that nothing is wrong,” Skye nodded, looking away from her arm. Skye winced as Jemma inserted the needle, trying her best to keep from making any noise. She didn’t want Jemma thinking she was hurting her.

“Apply pressure to that please,” Jemma asked. Skye’s fingertips brushed Jemma’s as she pushed down on the puncture in her skin, she blushed slightly.

“Not sure how I feel about Doctor Simmons,” Skye said, wanting to cheer Jemma up a bit. She looked tired. Skye felt a rush of guilt. Simmons must’ve been exhausted after looking after Skye for so long. She felt the blood rush from her head. Her head lolled to her shoulder a bit. What was she saying? 

“She’s so strict, and pokey,” Skye said, refinding her train of thought.

“Well I couldn’t ask for a better patient,” Jemma smiled over at her. Skye looked down, not wanting to blush.

“Wellll, it’s not like I can go very far, not whilst I’m busy being your own personal lab rat,” She said, smiling up at Jemma. 

“Just going to take this to the lab for analysis, back in a mo.” 

She watched as Jemma walked away. She cursed herself, for being so careless. She shouldn’t have gone in alone. She’d known that. She remembered seeing Jemma’s body on the train. The thought unsettled her. What was a world without Jemma Simmons? She felt her eyelids begin to drop. She frowned into sleep, imagining Jemma, and how much she’s left unsaid.

She was sitting with Fitz and Simmons. They were on the sofa in the bus, eating pizza. They were watching Buffy, and they were singing along to the theme (horrendously off pitch). Skye was smiling and Jemma looked at her. She stage whispered to Fitz, 

“I love her!” as though it was some massive secret. Fitz rolled his eyes and imitated her whispering.

“I know!” he rolled his eyes at them, turning to watch Buffy as Skye pressed a kiss to Jemma’s cheek.

They were two episodes in when the TV went to static. Fitzsimmons sighed heavily and stood up simultaneously. Skye pouted slightly when Jemma removed herself from her arms, the lack of warm leaving her empty. Skye didn’t know how long they were fiddling with it for, but eventually Jemma waved her arms in exasperation. 

“I can’t fix it.” Fitz looked disappointed. Skye was wondering why he wasn’t the one fixing it. He was the engineer afterall. 

“I’m sorry, Fitz” Jemma slapped his shoulder and settled back into Skye’s arms. 

She woke up with blurry eyes. She tried to lift her arms but they were led. She called out

“Simmons?” she called out, her lips dry from thrust. She heard shuffling on the floor next to her bed. She looked down and saw Fitz and Simmons waking up. When Jemma caught her eye she leapt up. 

“Skye! You’re okay!” She spontaneously hugged the girl, Fitz watching from behind them. Skye could smell her apple shampoo.

“‘Course I’m okay. Unkillable, that’s me.” She said into Simmons’s hair.  
. . .

“Oh, and your scientist friends? They were brave until their last breath.” Skye had heard enough. His voice was slimy, disgusting. She snapped the phone, throwing it to the side. Grief rose in her, filling her up. She shoved it down, denying it the right to affect her. Not now, not here. Brushing away the tears in her eyes. There was time for that later. She had a job to do. 

The rest of the day passed in a fog. Someone had taken over the controls. She wasn’t Skye, she was an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D and she had a job to do. Her body walked around. She got the job done. Garret was dead. Both Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D had been sent crawling back into the shadows. May had piled them all back on the bus, they were heading to another of Fury’s bases. Skye felt the fog begin to lift. 

She ran to her bunk, as the suppressed anguish flooded to surface. Trip looked to Coulson, as though asking if he should follow. He just shook his head.

“I’ll go get her when we get back to the playground.”

Skye slammed her bunk door shut, sliding onto the floor, the gravity of her agony weighing her down. Her lungs didn’t feel like they could quite fill up enough, pain echoing throughout her body. She couldn’t hear anything, other than her heartbeat and her cries. Usually she’d been concerned about making too much  
noise, but she just didn’t care

This was it. There would be no more sparse, yet precious glances. There would be no more late night gossip crowded into Fitz’s bunk. There would be no more Buffy, no more apple shampoo. Jemma Simmons was dead. 

At that realisation, she started clawing desperately at her arms, scratching, hoping for any kind of sensation other than the aching numbness. It was an old habit, it’d started at St. Agnes. It had slowly turned into cutting, no one caring enough to get her to stop.

Now, her rough fingernails ran over the left over bumps. She was begging for blood, for evidence that without Jemma, there was still something left of her other than this empty dullness weeping on the floor. She considered dragging herself up and to the bathroom to clean her wounds, both self-inflicted and those of the day. She couldn’t. She couldn’t make her limbs work. She didn’t much want to.

She deserved this. She deserved infected wounds. She’d had the world, right there. And she’d lost her. How careless of her, stupid, to have something so precious, right there in her hands, and let it slip right through her fingers. She scratched at her skin harder, irritating it, leaving hot, red flesh with emerging spots of blood behind. Pain. She needed to feel something, she deserved pain. She heard knocking at the door. She ignored it. The knocking persisted. 

“Dammit, Skye. If you don’t get this door open within the next 30 seconds I will knock the damn thing down,” May yelled through the metal, her voice frustrated. Skye sighed. She got up, her shoulders heavy, eyes swollen and hot, arms angry red. She wiped her eyes and tapped in her door code, 136. May pulled it open, looking Skye up and down. 

“Fury found them, Simmons will be fine, Fitz is in a coma.” What did she mean, Simmons will be fine? Simmons was dead. Was this some kind of cruel prank? She pushed that thought away. May was many things, cruel was not one of them. Skye ran to puke in her bin. May wasn’t making any sense. Simmons was dead. May held her hair back as she retched and coughed, the putrid taste and the sense of confusion sending heavy tears down her face. 

May took her hand and led her to the medbay. Skye shook her head. 

“Th-That’s her place,” she told her, remorse behind her eyes, voice shaky.

“Simmons will be fine, Skye. You’ll see her soon.”  
“Can you stop saying that? Jemma Simmons is dead. I will never see her again. I will never hear her goddamn laugh again, or smell her stupid hair again. She is gone.” Her knees buckled beneath her as she heard those words out loud, the realisation hitting her all over again. Skye wanted to shout at May, yell at her, scream at her to stop trying to give her hope in a hopeless world. May had caught her, gently setting them both on the ground. She was holding Skye as she wept for Jemma, keeled over her knees. She went back to rubbing Skye’s back, waiting for her ragged breathing to calm before telling her softly,

“Fitz saved her. Ward threw them to the bottom of the ocean, and Fitz saved her. Fury found them. He’s going to meet us at the Playground. Please let me tend to your wounds now, otherwise Jemma will end up having to do it.” Skye took a moment to process. She refused to believe Jemma was alive, not until she saw it. What good had hope ever done her. She’d hoped her parents would find her and she’d finally have a family for 18 and all that got her was a trail of dead bodies following her wherever she went. The thought of Jemma just being another name of the list made her choke. She could feel May helping her up and followed her blindly. 

May helped her onto the bed in the medbay, Jemma’s stuff surrounding them. Skye was staring at her lap. She would never watch them in the lab together again. She could feel May cleaning her scratches. She knew that it should sting, but she was cold. Too cold to feel it. May wrapped bandages around her arms.

“It’s not necessary, but it should stop your clothes from irritating them too much.” May told her.

“Jemma-” was all Skye could muster. 

“As I keep repeating, Simmons is fine.” May told her, walking over to but the first aid kit back in the drawer. May touched Skye’s shoulder, the pressure almost grounding her. Skye leaned forward into May, just wanting to be held, to feel arms around her. She felt May tense up a little before hopping onto the bed beside her. Skye leaned on her shoulder and May took her hand. They sat there, Skye just taking comfort in May’s presence, until Coulson came in. 

“We’re almost there.” He told them before leaving.

“I need to go land the plane. You’re welcome to sit with me in the cockpit if you so wish. You’ll see Simmons when we land.” May went to let go of Skye’s hand, but she held on tight, following May through the bus. She sat beside her in the copilot seat as they landed. She wanted to believe May. She just couldn’t hope like that. She considered the possibility of seeing Jemma again. Of holding her. Of telling her. Of feeling soft lips against her chapped ones. Skye pushed the idea away. 

“S.H.I.E.L.D. 616 requesting to land.” May said over the comms.

“Permission gladly granted, Good to hear from you Agent May. The scientist is waiting down below.”

Skye gasped, looking at May. She just rolled her eyes at her. 

“I’ll give you 5 minutes when we land to get yourself together, you gotta stay put til then.” May told her. Skye fidgeted impatiently in her seat. She imagined taking Jemma into her arms, holding her tightly. They landed smoothly, May gestured to the door. Skye ran to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face. She knew her eyes were red. She knew it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered really. Nothing but her. 

They were standing in the cargo hold. The 30 seconds it took for the ramp to lower felt like hours. Skye fiddled anxiously with her sleeve, biting her lip. She saw Jemma. She was running towards her, arms open. She took Jemma, holding her tight, never wanting to let her go. She smelt her apple shampoo and she was home. 

“I thought I would never see you again,” Skye whispered. Then Jemma was pulling away. Then her face was by Skye’s. Then Skye felt soft lips against her chapped ones.


	3. Chapter 3

Jemma inhaled deeply as Skye kissed her back. She was surrounded by Skye. She put a gentle hand on her cheek, leaning into the kiss slightly. Skye placed a hand on her waist, Jemma felt her smile against her lips. She pulled away for a second, resting her forehead against Skye’s.

“After all this time?” Jemma just nodded, moving to embrace her again, wanting to be held, to feel Skye So much had happened since they’d last seen each other. She heard Skye inhale deeply.

“I thought I’d lost you.” Jemma said, the words muffled by Skye’s hair.

“I’m here, you’re here. We’re ok.” Skye murmured, holding her tightly. She’d just kissed Jemma Simmons. Not that she hadn’t before, just now she’d just kissed Jemma Simmons, and she wasn’t dreaming.

“Of course I’m okay. I’m with you,” it was all Jemma could manage. She wanted to tell Skye about Fitz, but she didn’t think it was the time. Skye moved to kiss her again, more gently this time. Their first kiss had been desperate, life affirming. This one was gentle, steady, as though they had all the time in the world. 

May coughed behind them and Skye pulled away, turning to face her, Coulson and Trip, Jemma’s arms still around her. They walked past them, Trip high-fiving Skye on the way. 

“Nice going, girl.” He said, winking at them. Skye took Jemma’s hand, and they followed them.

… 

They were lying on Skye’s bed together, Jemma’s head on her chest, her hands in Skye’s.

“What happened? Down there, I mean.” Skye suddenly asked. Jemma shifted uncomfortably and swallowed. She felt bad for not being by Fitz’s side, but she needed Skye, just for a night.  
“Fitz and I, we found a way to break the glass. He didn’t tell me there was only enough oxygen for one person until it was too late.” Jemma squeezed Skye’s hand, tears springing into her eyes. Skye squeezed her hand back, moving her other hand to stroke Jemma’s hair.

“Fitz- he told me he just wanted me to be happy.” She started crying, her bottom lip wobbling, the lump in her throat rising.

“He told me to go to you, to live. I knew he loved me, I love him too, I just didn’t know he’d give up his life for me. I love him, I do. I love him like I love my brother. I can’t stand him in that bed, looking so small. He looks so peaceful, like he’s sleeping. The worst part is, it’s my fault he’s in there. If only I’d swam faster, or kicked his shoes off, or just given him the damn oxygen. ” Jemma was crying properly now, gasping for breath. Skye kissed the top of her head.

“You know none of this was your fault, Jems. It’s Ward’s fault. No one else’s. Fitz wouldn’t want you beating yourself up over him.” Jemma nodded into her, sniffling quietly. Skye kept playing with her hair, twisting it around her finger. She hated that Jemma was blaming herself. She hated that Fitz was in the coma. 

Jemma just lay there, listening to Skye’s heartbeat. She thought about all the time she’d spent by her bed when she’d been shot. That felt so long ago now. All the time spent holding her hand, just begging her to hold on. Now the same was happening with Fitz. It sickened her. How they’d both been damaged in such a short time. Is this what a life in S.H.I.E.L.D. was? Watching friend after friend on their deathbed, Jemma unable to fix them. Or was this some cruel joke of the universe. She wasn’t even a medical doctor, no amount of PhDs could fix them.

They fell asleep together after hours of soft murmurs and light kisses. They were interlocked under the covers, as though if they let go the other might just disappear. Jemma’s hand was loose in Skye, her body tucked into her chest.

Skye woke up with an arm wrapped around her. She sighed contentedly, shuffling to get up as quietly as possible. She doubted that May would excuse her from training if her right arm magically fell off, let alone for cuddling in the morning. 

She sat up slowly, glancing down at Jemma. She was breathing heavily, light was bleeding through the door, highlighting the freckles that spattered across her face. Her hair was down, spread across her face randomly. She tucked a strand behind her ear, Jemma rubbed her head against the pillow a bit. Skye smiled down at her, then pulled her eyes away, found a notepad and scribbled a note down for her.

‘Gone to train with May, be back for breakfast, save a seat for me :) Skye x’

She grabbed some leggings, a hoodie and a sports bra and headed to the bathroom to change, stopping by the kitchen to get her water bottle she’d put in the fridge the night before. 

After about 5 minutes of wandering around the unfamiliar base, she found May in the gym, already doing her tai-chi.

“You’re late.” she said, not sparing a glance at Skye, or even turning to face the door.

“Yeah, sorry, took me a while to find the place.” She replied, dumping her hoodie and water bottle at the edge of the room, joining May’s movements.  
It was like a dance, in a way. She watched as her arm cut through the air, moving almost in sync with May’s.  
Training with May was different than training with Ward. Ward was all about awareness of the person next to you, their weaknesses to exploit. May talked about self awareness, knowing your weakness, being aware of your emotions, channeling them into the fight. Skye thought about Fitz as they sparred, his body, so lifeless, so young. Ward had done that. She thought about Jemma’s tears last night, her guilt, her sniffles as Skye had stroked her hair, not sure how to comfort her. 

May had her doing strength training as well. She found that now if she went without it for a day, she’d ache, her muscles would stiffen and it’d be that much harder to do it the day after. 

May wasn’t a big talker, she found. She’d wondered if training with her would mean more talking, but May was silent other than small corrections to her posture.  
Training lasted about 2 hours. Ward always made it longer, but apparently May needed to see Coulson about something. Skye found her bunk again and walked in to see Jemma still asleep. She shuffled through her drawers as quietly as she could, getting her usual plaid and jeans combo, but Jemma must’ve woken up.

“Mph, morning,” she said, rolling onto her back and stretching out.

“Hey, babes. Good sleep?” Skye asked her, moving to kiss her gently before grabbing her towel. Jemma smiled into her, nodding. Her stomach had done a little flip when Skye called her that. She sat up, wiping her eyes.

“How was May?” she asked.

“Quiet. And achy.” she told her, heading out the door.

“Just gonna go shower, back in a bit.” Jemma nodded, collapsing back into the bed, pulling the duvet tight around her. She’d slept in the same bed as Skye once before. They’d been on a mission and there was only one in the hotel room. Skye had shrugged, taking off her shirt and jeans.

“We’re both girls, right?” She’d said before flopping into the bed. Jemma had almost had a heart attack, she’d just nodded shyly before imitating Skye, staying as far from her as possible. This time, they’d been touching the whole night. She thought of Fitz, and jumped up, gathering a towel, shirt and jeans before heading to the showers as well. She couldn’t leave him alone for this long, she owed him that. Skye was heading back to her bunk as Jemma was approaching the communal showers. 

“See you in the kitchen in a second,” Skye said.

“Uh, I’m going to check on Fitz for a minute before I head over. I don’t want to leave him alone. I’ll be  
there in a while.” Skye nodded.

“Okay, I’ll see you when you’re ready.” She’d put a hand on Jemma’s shoulder and continued on her way.

Jemma hurried to the shower, only spending two minutes washing herself, brushed her teeth and then went to see him. She almost cried at the sight of him. He was all hooked up to machines, his face gaunt. She wondered if he was lonely.

“Fitz.” She’d almost whispered, taking his hand as she pulled a chair beside him.

“I’m going to need you to wake up, please. I don’t much care if it’s an inconvenience to you. I need you by my side. I’m biochem, you’re tech. We complete each other. What do you expect me to do without you?” She felt a tear roll down her cheek and ignored it. His heart monitor taunted her, teasing her, beeping steadily. Letting her know that he was alive, but unreachable.

“Come on, wake up. There’s so much we haven’t done yet. We joined this team to go on adventures, to see the world. There’s no point if you’re not with me. You’re like my brother, Fitz.” She was properly crying now, she wiped her face with a shaky hand.

“Wake up, you stubborn idiot! Come on!” She was pleading with him now, shouting at him. 

“Simmons?” She turned around to see Skye behind her.

“He won’t wake up.” Was all she could manage, tears streaming fast down her cheeks. Skye leaned down to pull her into her arms. 

“He’ll be okay. Give him time. You know he doesn’t like to be rushed.” She told her, rubbing her back. Jemma stood on shaky legs to properly wrap her arms around Skye, feeling her warmth. 

Skye held her tightly, whispering comforting words into her ears. She felt so helpless. Unable to help Jemma, unable to help Fitz. She hated it, how useless she was. She heard the incessant beeping of his heart monitor. He was alive. But he wasn’t Here.

…

Her and Jemma were curled up under Skye covers again. Skye had Buffy playing on her laptop, which balanced on her knees. Jemma’s head was on her shoulder, their hands intertwined. Jemma’s breath tickled her neck slightly, her pajama shirt leaving her collar bone exposed. 

Skye leaned her head on Jemma’s, breathing in her apple shampoo. This was good. They were okay.


End file.
